


the most effective lies have truths at their core

by Ford_Ye_Fiji



Category: The Blacklist (US TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dembe is so tired of your crap!!!, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Father-Daughter Relationship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, My First Work in This Fandom, No Romance, Not Canon Compliant, Old Fic, Post-Episode: s02e19 Leonard Caul, Sorry shippers, yeah red is her dad in this oneeeeeeee
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-23
Updated: 2019-11-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:41:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21535369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ford_Ye_Fiji/pseuds/Ford_Ye_Fiji
Summary: Canon divergent after/around episode 19 of season 2. Lizzie discovers the truth a little earlier, thanks to Dembe. Some quotes taken from the Luther Braxton episodes!
Kudos: 33





	the most effective lies have truths at their core

**Author's Note:**

> This is a very old fic!! I’m still somewhere in the middle of season five of the blacklist and I wrote it waaay back after I saw episode 18 and 19 of season 2??? I think? It’s definitely post those episodes at least XD I also didn’t want to post this because it’s purely self indulgent and not canon compliment at all- BUT I hit a milestone so despite all my qualms I’m publishing it ajsksks

Dembe watches his charge carefully. Reddington sits by the window in a faded yellow armchair, seemingly watching the street, but his mind elsewhere. His shirt is buttoned loosely over his bandages, the gunshot wound still in the early stages of healing. The thought of who’s fault that wound is niggled at his core.

It wasn’t all her fault, Red had insisted she had every right to be so cautious. Still he couldn’t help but blame her in some secret part of him for the whole incident with the Fulcrum. Though Red has certainly done his part. Keeping secrets from Elizabeth Keen was not the wisest of decisions. He did understand why his employer was reluctant to divulge his connection to Elizabeth, but at this point it was more beneficial to both parties to stop keeping secrets. Another tragedy was bound to happen.

She needed to know the measure of influence she held over Reddington, the _power_ she had, the ability to unravel everything if more of Raymond's enemies became aware of the nature of their relationship.

Red still hesitated, however, just as he had with telling her about Tom Keen. He was afraid of her hatred. He was right to be. Anger seemed to come easy to Agent Keen.

Speaking of her, Red's newest burner cell rings in his pocket. He flips it open, answering with a quiet, "Yes, Agent Keen?"

Red lifts an eyebrow, watching Dembe carefully.

Red can’t hear Elizabeth's tinny voice over the phone's cheap speakers, " _Dembe, is Red available right now?_ "

Dembe's mouth twists, a spark of inspiration igniting, a plan coming to him, "Yes, absolutely."

" _So... he’s feeling up to a meeting?_ " Elizabeth usually does not ask permission before dropping by. She likes to catch Raymond off guard. Clearly the FBI profiler is still deeply rattled from the shot that took Reddington down, from her part in it- the mistrust and the admittedly understandable hesitance to turn over the Fulcrum that would have prevented it all.

"Of course."

" _Good. Be there in ten._ "

She hangs up with a click and Dembe snaps the flip phone shut. Red tilts his head to the side, "Who was that?"

Dembe, for the first time in the many long years that he has known Raymond Reddington, lies to him, "One of our associates. They needed confirmation about some specifics."

Red nods, looking weary. He doesn’t question the vagueness. He trusts Dembe. A flicker of guilt runs through him, but it’s quickly suppressed. This is for Raymond's own good.

He takes a step forward, "Your bandages need changing."

Red sighs, "Already?"

Dembe's small fond smile is met with soft laughter and Red nods, "Of course, Dembe. You’re right." A sigh and a tight-lipped smile, "You’re always right."

* * *

Lizzie pushes open the door silently, fingers winding around the doorknob. The small apartment is quiet and still. On reflex, she closes the door slowly, trying to avoid making a sound. Sneaking up on Red can sometimes be enlightening. Though, he tends to cover up his work quickly as soon as he realizes she’s inside.

She turns a corner and blinks with surprise.

She has found something far worse than him in the middle of work. She’s found him in a moment of vulnerability.

Dembe is crouched by Red, chair turned slightly away from her, folds of bloodstained gauze in his arms. Red startles as he cranes his neck around the low backed chair, eyes widening at Lizzie's sudden appearance. His bright eyes, open to the world and full of feeling for just a singular moment, shutter immediately, his brows flattening and lips thinning.

Dembe doesn’t look surprised at all.

And then Lizzie sees something she was most definitely never supposed to see. His shirt, opened to allow Dembe access to the wound, exposing Reddington's back.

His skin is shiny and pink, glazed, tissue ragged and healed wrong. His whole back, covered in massive scar tissue, pink and white pock marks stretched over muscle and bone, marring forever what should’ve been healthy skin. It’s a more expansive canvas than the familiar matching wound on her wrist.

Her heart stops, lips parting.

_Burns_.

Dembe's face remains impassive.

Red shrugs his shirt up over his shoulders hastily, wincing as he pulls at his most recent injury, but insistent on donning his layers of wool armor, "Agent Keen, what a... surprise."

She stutters, mind working frantically to process what she had clearly _not_ been supposed to see, "Dembe... Dembe said you were unoccupied."

Red glares at his loyal bodyguard, raising an eyebrow, "Oh, really?"

Dembe stares straight ahead, avoiding Red's eyes.

Lizzie's brows furrow, "Where... where did you get those- those scars? They’re- they’re  _burn_ scars."

In the stony silence in that follows, Dembe's eyes flick up to her, dark burning eyes burrowing into her very soul as he slowly, carefully, answers, "You’re asking the wrong question."

Red glowers with dangerous warning at Dembe who finally, stubbornly,meets his employer's eyes.

Elizabeth shakes her head, "What?"

Red snaps, fingers fumbling over the buttons of his shirt, "Leave it alone, Elizabeth."

He uses her full name.

Lizzie finally catches it, brain catching up to her eyes, " _When_ did you get those burns, Red?"

Red leaves the buttons alone, only halfway done, and straightens as much as he can, changing tactics, "Why are you here? Is there a case? Tom? Something you need me to do that couldn’t wait?"

Dembe mutters from his stance in front of the two, "I believe from the level of healing, that they’re about twenty years old."

Red turns to stare with utter betrayal at the man. Dembe bows himself out of the room. Lizzie's head is spinning.

_Twenty years old._

_Burns._

_"What I remember is leaving my father dying on the floor of a burning house. There's no way he could have survived that."_

_"Lizzie, the memories of a 4-year-old are unreliable."_

_"My father was killed because of the Fulcrum because you and your people came for it that night."_

_Burns._

_"The people and the events may have been there but in different roles."_

Lizzie licks her lips, words trembling in her mouth, "Red..."

Red is watching her impassively.

She knows there’s a storm going on in there. She knows it. She can taste the tenseness of the air, the static charge.

"Are you my father?"

His answer is too quick, unlike the last time she asked him the very same question, "No."

Lizzie shakes her head, firm and sharp, " _Don’t_ lie to me." She steps around the chair to face him head on.

Red lifts his chin, eyes following her movement, "Lizzie-“

"You really are my father." She chokes on a laugh.

Red sits forward, intensity hidden in the hoarseness of his words, "Lizzie, I’m not-"

"W- why would you?"

Red tries to stand, but he doesn’t manage to get off the chair, his breath hitching, "Lizzie stop-“

"Why didn’t you tell me?"

Red breaks, his facade falling, " _For your own protection!_ " His composure is dangerously cracked, teetering on the cusp of  something , "...Lizzie, you weren’t supposed to know. You were  _never_ supposed to know."

"I have a right to know who my parents are!"

"Not at the expense of your own life, Lizzie! I couldn’t- I couldn’t bear... it’s unthinkable!"

Lizzie is flushed, breathing heavily, but so is Reddington, he would be on his feet but he stays firmly on the edge of the seat, pale with a desperate anger as his fingers dig into the arm of the chair, "It defeats the very purpose, the very  _reason_ I left! Why I gave you to Sam, why I let you think I was dead."

Lizzie's voice is low and quiet, "And  why was that?"

Red is in earnest, she can tell that, "To  _protect_ you, why else?"

Elizabeth frowns.

The truth is out in the open, crisp and clear in the air. But half of it had always been out, hadn’t it? He’d never told her why, he’d made sure she never knew why, but he had always,  _always_ , been emphatic that her safety was his priority. She’d always assumed it was a lie, another manipulation. She was simply significant because she had the Fulcrum. But now that she thought about it, that didn’t make any sense. The amount of times he’d nearly died himself for her was... was  _more_ than that.

She’d been so blind.

Nearly everything Reddington had done had been to protect her. To keep her safe, to keep  _his daughter_ safe.

Reddington leaned backwards in the face of her long silence and wide eyed realization- at his motivations laid bare and vulnerable.

Hissing at the movement, he turned his head to the face the window with a sigh, carefully avoiding her gaze, "Now that you know, what are you going to do?"

Lizzie purses her lips, "I don’t trust you-“

His bark of laughter is harsh against the sudden stillness, "You’ve already made that quite clear." A second later, he huffs, "No, no, you’re right not to trust me."

Lizzie shakes her head, looking up at the faded ceiling, "No, I- I lied. I do trust you. On this."

Reddington's eyebrow raises and he studies her with a rare measure of surprise. Lizzie continues, "We can’t pretend this didn’t happen. You’re my father. You..." She feels herself sway, tears filming her eyes, "You..."

Reddington slumps, tired, defeated, and open for once, a weary fondness for her shining through. He gestures, "Lizzie, come here...”

Raymond Reddington has held Elizabeth Keen while she’d cried before, but never with no walls between them, never where she knew the truth of his identity.

Red held Lizzie close, rubbing her arms and murmuring quietly.

Dembe smiled softly and took up his post by the front door, leaving father and daughter to themselves. 


End file.
